


The Gift

by Gilli_ann



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 00:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilli_ann/pseuds/Gilli_ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is more than one kind of love that can warm a heart. There are joyful moments to be found, be they ever so fleeting. And when those special moments occur, living and loving in the here and now is all that any person can do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Brokeback Mountain and its characters do not belong to me, but to Annie Proulx, Diana Ossana, Larry McMurtry and Focus Features. I intend no copyright infringement and make no profit from this.
> 
> The fic takes place in the late winter/early spring of 1970. The plot is to some certain degree inspired by the movie "Pay it Forward". And the last sentence ows an obvious debt to the similar tranquility of the last sentence in Steinbeck's novel "East of Eden".
> 
> This story is not to be copied from AO3 or used elsewhere without my explicit written permission.

**The Gift**   
  

**Alma**

Junior was sitting at the kitchen table, making another drawing. She’d had a box of crayons as a gift for Christmas, and her favorite color ones had already been reduced to mere stubs. Deeply absorbed, she was lost to the world, pink tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth as she applied another thick layer of brown to what had to be a horse… or a bear… or perhaps a dog.  
   
Alma shook her head to clear her mind. Despite it all, she had to smile fondly at the sight of her creative little girl.  
   
She’d just turned from staring blankly out of the window, her mood melancholy and somber, thinking – or trying not to think - of the upcoming Valentine’s day and whether or not he’d remember it. A little gift, some flowers….? But mostly she was trying hard not to think about what his feelings for her were, and what their marriage meant to him, trying desperately not to make sense of that mind-numbing, inexplicable sight of the kisses and intimate caresses he’d shared with that fishing buddy of his who appeared out of nowhere nearly 3 years ago. That moment and the following days had sent everything spinning, made her doubt everything, turned her marriage into an enigma too confusing for her to wreck her mind over. A mystery that kept renewing itself with every unsettling new postcard arriving from Jack Twist.  
   
As usual, she tried very hard to think of something else.  
   
She went over to look at Junior’s drawing, smiling down at her daughter’s light brown unruly hair. Alma truly cherished her little girls, and wouldn’t have minded more kids, if only…  
   
Junior was so cute with all her intensely focused energy, Alma felt her heart welling with the summer-bright glow of pure, undeniable, simple and straight-forward love. The warm surge of affection made it impossible for her to hold still, she had to sweep Junior up half-way from her chair and squeeze the child, press her daughter to her heart in a strong happy hug.  
   
Junior was not too big yet to protest being cuddled, she delighted in being kissed, but soon started squirming to get back to her business.  
   
“Mommy, see, do you like my cow? What should I draw next?”  
   
The answer came immediately to Alma, born of her troubled thoughts the moment before and the uncompromising love that was just now warming her heart and her cheeks:  
   
“Why don’t you draw a big and real pretty heart for daddy, honey? Tomorrow is a special day, you know, Valentine’s day, when you must show the ones you love how much you care.  
   
She hugged Junior again, kissed the tip of her nose and the top of her head.  
   
“And I love you, sweetie, I’ll tell you just how much, not only tomorrow, but every day, and for free! Mmmm-mmm!”  
   
Junior kept grinning long after she was firmly back on her chair.   
   
Alma turned to start cooking dinner. She was too late, had squandered time idling about lost in heavy thoughts, brought on by the postcard that just came in the mail. But the world never stopped turning, Ennis would be home soon, and Jenny would wake from her nap any minute.  
   
Alma turned the faucet with a decisive grip.  
   
The glow of minutes before had already dimmed somewhat in the grey afternoon light of reality’s obligations, its remnants of brightness and warmth draining out of her as surely as the tepid tap water now was draining out of the kitchen sink, - swirling for a moment, then soon enough gone from sight.  
   
But not lost.  
   
   
**Junior**  
   
Junior liked mommy’s idea. Liked it a lot. Something special for daddy. She had seen the pretty red and pink and frilly hearts in the shops, the cards on display, she know just how they were supposed to look. Aglow with purpose, on a mission now, she carefully selected the crimson crayon, turned a page in her drawing book and studied the white page critically.  
   
A big, red, _happy_ heart. A right and proper _love-you-lots-and-lots_ heart.  
   
Squinting with concentration, she set to work.  
   
   
**Ennis**  
   
Ennis was up at half past five the next morning. It was a long drive to the ranch, and he would be long gone by the time the rest of his little family was getting out of bed. Fixing himself breakfast in comfortable solitude under the bleak glare of the kitchen lamp, he was surprised to hear movement in the living room.  
   
That soft rapid-fire patter of feet – it had to be Junior. Tousled hair and face mussed from sleep, she sprinted into the kitchen and stopped short.  
   
“Daddy, happy Allatime, got something for you cause I love you!” She exhaled in a confusing sleep-muddled rush, excitedly jumbling it all together.  
   
“Darlin’, you up this early, hunh? What’s that you say?  
   
Standing in front of him, wearing her rumpled flannel winter nightgown, her bare feet skipping on the cold floor, she held both hands firmly hidden behind her back. Suddenly bashful, she squirmed and made a face, wrinkling her nose and looking at him sideways through downcast lashes.  
   
“Happy Allatime!” she repeated, and with a sudden flourish held out her hands to him, displaying the object she’d been hiding, the gift she’d prepared.  
   
A big red paper heart.  
   
“It’s ‘cause I love you, daddy. And I wanna tell you that…. So I made it… for you.”  
   
Now he understood. Valentine’s Day – he’d forgotten about that, he realized with a pang of bad conscience. _Shit!_ He looked at the paper heart, its uneven scissor-cut edges, its crimson coating glistening in the lamp light. Carefully studying the two black stick figures in the middle - one little, one large  –  he felt an unaccustomed lump in his throat.  
   
“C’mere, darlin’. You my very own Valentine girl today? Daddy’s gonna show you how much he loves you back. You ready for a real huge, big bear hug?”  
   
Junior squealed with delight.  
   
   
**Jack**  
   
“Gave me a big, red, heart for Valentine’s day. Had made it on her own. Cut it out herself. Always doin’ things with her hands, drawin’ an’ such.”  
   
Ennis reached for the wallet in his jacket pocket. He opened it and took something out. Red paper. Carefully unfolding it, he looked down on what had to be his daughter’s Valentine’s card for him, balanced on the palm of his hand.  
   
“Handed it to me real serious like kids can be sometimes, you know, and then she even said, well – little darlin’ sure can be silly, hunh? Said she loves me an’ she wants to marry me when she grows up.”  
   
_Tell her to get in line_ , Jack thought morosely, eyeing Ennis’s shy ghost of a genuinely happy smile. But he grinned on cue, laughed a little and came up with some sort of response.  
   
“Yeah, kids can be surprisin’, sometimes,” he offered. “Sounds like she’s a true and for real daddy’s girl alright.”  
   
They were sitting side by side on a log by the fire, had finished up eating and were passing the last of the whiskey back and forth. Jack was shuddering a bit in the friggin’ freezing night air, feeling the dull cold ache of departure settling over him, but Ennis as was his usual seemed oblivious to the mountain chill.  
   
It was the last night of their week together. The mood was heavy, their imminent parting weighing them down, though both tried their best not to show it.  
   
They’d been talking some about their jobs and their lives, as if to ease tomorrow’s transition back to bleak everyday existence - speaking slowly, carefully, with big silences in between. Ennis didn’t mention Alma much at all, but he did talk about his girls. It was so painfully obvious that he loved them, that he was proud of them and their little achievements. When Ennis brought up his eldest daughter’s sweet Valentine declaration Jack had long since started to feel the sharp pangs that unhappy thoughts of their continuing separate lives always brought.  
   
“Uhhm, well…” Ennis muttered, squirming a little bit before pulling on the bottle and sending Jack a quick silent look under his hat brim, before looking away.  
   
“Mmm,” he exhaled as he lowered the bottle.  
   
Jack had been carefully re-learning Ennis’s signals during their meet-ups these last couple of years. He could read a sign or two between the lines of Ennis’s gruff unease.  
   
“Something more on your mind here, friend?  
   
Ennis held the bottle out to him, then meticulously placed the paper heart to the side, lit up a smoke, and grabbed hold of the stick he kept near by. He started poking it into the ground as if he was planning to dig himself a hole to hide in.  
   
“Christ, Ennis… it’s me. What’s up? Come on.”  
   
Dropping the stick as if burned by it, Ennis picked up the red paper heart, held it out to Jack without a word, for the briefest of moments looking directly into his eyes, then averting his gaze.  
   
Jack studied the crayon-colored piece of paper. Crimson, its color nearly that of dried blood in the flickering campfire light. The heart was frayed at the edges, worn and torn from being handled, from lying folded and pressed in the battered old wallet. The two black stick figures drawn in the middle, one big, one smaller, had been smudged and looked as if they were dissolving, merging into the thick blood-colored layers.  
   
Jack didn’t want this, didn’t need Ennis to make a point about how much his girls meant to him, how much he was bound to stay in Riverton, a proper husband and father for all to see. He needed no reminders of what that heart meant to Ennis – the family life that held him back with ties of blood and love and duty, chains of fear and that dark desperate desire to be ordinary. Normal. Just an average hard-workin guy with little wife and kids and cute home-made Valentine hearts stuck to the fridge and hanging from the ceiling.  
   
The tattered, bruised heart in his hand suddenly seemed a painfully accurate image of jack’s own. He stared at it, lost for words, turning it between his fingers in the firelight, tracing the biggest of the two shapes with his index finger. _Way to show me there’s still no way, way to rub my nose in all that domestic bliss he insists we can never have…._  
   
Ennis was staring at him questioningly now, almost pleadingly, wanting so badly for Jack to understand his meaning without him having to spell it out, then resumed poking desperately at the ground with his stick, jabbing at the hard surface, intensely focused on this nonsensical task.  
   
Jack shook his tired uncomprehending head, feeling sad, exasperated, heartshot, subdued. For a moment the bright hopes he always held his inner eye firmly fixed on, flickered and threatened to wink out.  
   
“That’s….. somethin’, friend,” he whispered thickly. “Yeah, it’s sweet.”  
   
The silence that settled between them was filled with so much left unsaid; - hopes, regret, longing, denials, despair. The air was thick with it, making it hard to breathe, hushing them up, - no more words spoken.  
   
Ennis shook himself as if waking from an unpleasant dream.  
   
“Well, I’m turning’ in, I s’pose,” he mumbled, abruptly rising to throw his stick into the darkness beyond their camp. He reached out to take the paper heart back from Jack’s hand, carefully refolding it, keeping his eyes dejectedly on his task this time, never for a second meeting Jack’s gaze.  
   
“Just gonna go check on the horses first, take a piss. Where’s the damn flashlight? Won’t be long.”  
   
“Well OK, sure,” Jack forced out of his tight throat, his words chasing Ennis’s retreating back.  
   
“Sure enough. I’ll turn in too. It’s damn cold out here. Better get the tent warmed up good for you,” he ended in a lame attempt at innuendo that fell flat on the ground in front of his feet.  
   
Ennis didn’t respond. Hunched and silent, he just walked on, disappearing out of the circle of light. Only the glowing pinprick of his smoke remained visible. There was a faint whicker from one of the horses.  
   
Jack drained the bottle and got up, his joints creaking and complaining. On cold nights like this every one of his rodeo injuries were competing to remind him of their existence. He stretched his back and drew a deep breath, muttering disgustedly, furious with himself for feeling so low. _This is the way it is, and you know it. He needs more time, there’s nothing to do but let him have it._  
   
“Damn. Well alright then…. ”  
   
One step towards the tent, and he stopped short, staring at the ground where Ennis had been sitting.  
   
A distinct and recognizable shape had been carved into the soil. The lines formed a heart; slightly lopsided, but clearly recognizable, slashed deeply into the ground. Its edges were accented by flickering shadows, firelight outlining the muddy trenches and earthen bastions that protected and encompassed the embattled heart’s core within.  
   
An illuminating flash of sudden understanding coiled its way through Jack at the speed of lightning. He stood transfixed with sudden glorious insight, intense joy unfurling in his heart.  
   
Sometimes he feared that Ennis would never yield, that he would continue to insist this hopeless situation was all there could ever be, that he would never bring himself to speaking the _“yes”_ that Jack longed for and lived every day for. Those unspoken words between them, relentless time passing while they seemed to be getting nowhere…. Jack had fought off occasional doubts and despair, though he admonished himself to stay strong. And now - this!  
   
He didn’t pause to ponder whether his stoic gruff cowboy would consciously make use of such decidedly uncharacteristic _sweet and romantic_ signs and shapes to be read where his words failed him. He didn’t consider the possibility that Ennis incidentally and nervously had happened to imitate the shape of his daughter’s gift that he’d been displaying so proudly and lovingly. He didn’t see that Ennis’s discomfort, his silences and actions alike, carried a dual message - could be read as _“I can’t, please understand”_ – or equally as _“I will, I do, just give me time”._  
   
Jack had needed to know, had needed his hopes stoked, needed a sign with every fibre of his being, heart and soul. Now he _knew._ No more doubts – all Ennis required was more time. This simple shape, cut into the soil before their fire, was the farthest they’d ever gotten, Jack realized with elation.  
   
Ennis might not be comfortable saying the words out loud, but he had managed to get his point across. There are other ways than speaking up in order to show someone your intentions and what you truly feel.  
   
Settling himself in his bedroll, waiting impatiently, expectantly, jubilantly, Jack vowed to show Ennis as many of those ways as humanly possible during their last night out here in the middle of nowhere. 

Four days later, on the long drive back from Lightning Flat to Childress, Jack stopped halfway through Colorado to get himself a meal and a drink. His back was complaining something fierce. These long hauls were killing him, his back hurting, his heart hurting - feeling so low again once they’d said their familiar goodbyes for many months to come - his head hurting too, patience worn paper thin after visiting with his folks. His dad did that to him every time. He needed air.   
   
He was walking up and down a main street hardly worthy of the name, stretching his legs and breathing deep, when a sudden flash of crimson caught his attention.  
   
Slanting afternoon sun was reflecting off a heart-shaped pendant in the single window of a tiny jewelry shop. Its silver sparkling, its crimson enamel polished and ready for Valentine’s Day, the heart still remained orphaned and homeless these several weeks later.  
   
Drawn towards it against his will, Jack stepped up to the window, stared at the blushing silver trinket.  
   
Memories crowded and mingled in his brain. The crimson paper heart Ennis had shown him, the cheerful red of Lureen’s clothes, lips and cheeks the day they met, her sparkling eyes and bright smile flashing, heart’s blood, family ties, fiery hopes, a heart shape tattooed on the ground, a red hat tumbling after….  
   
Suddenly and inexplicably he felt at peace with his life, resentment and impatience giving way to a strange sense of belonging. Whatever the present held, whatever slow future would eventually bring, however long it would take to get there - in this moment everything connected in his mind, the disjointed disparate parts of his world fusing to one whole: One life, and worth living.  
   
He opened the shop door and went inside.  
   
   
**Lureeen**  
   
She looked up at the clock on the wall, sighed, tapped the ash off her cigarette, and bent back determinedly to her columns of tiny numbers.  
   
She had started working part time at the dealership last year, told Jack she had to have something to do, was going crazy staying at home all the time with Bobby. She sometimes brought paperwork back to go over in the evenings, already closely invested in the dealership finances. Besides, it gave her something solid and constant to focus her mind and intelligence on.  
   
She missed Jack when he went home to see his folks, or on one of those Wyoming fishing trips.  
   
Tapping her fingers restlessly on the desk, perfect nails clicking loudly in the silent room, she was fighting a sense of unease and muted sadness that had something to do with Jack, but which she chose not to dwell on nor examine. She was never one for dwelling on emotions and pondering personal issues. She prided herself on being way too sassy and take-charge and plain practical for any of that. Moping and pining and dwelling on what-ifs were not her things, full stop.  
   
There it finally was; -  the sound of a car outside, slowing down, then headlights sweeping brightly through the window, illuminating the wall beside her for an instant. Jack was home.  
   
Quickly collecting her papers into a neat stack, marking the last column she’d checked, she rose and walked to the front door. She could hear noises from the garage. He was probably getting his gear out of the car. Couldn’t he do that tomorrow? Was that really the most important thing right now?  
   
She frowned, sudden exasperation bubbling to the surface after her long wait. Just as she felt the sting of a sharp comment forming on her tongue, his key rattled in the door lock. The noise broke her bad mood like a spell, tartness dissolving into mellow and sweet.  
   
Their embrace was gentle, comfortable, but too quickly done. None of the passionate urgency she was sure she remembered being there in their early days. She did try to not let herself miss it, telling herself what they had now was just as suitable for modern married life. Yet….  
   
She bit her lip, a sliver of annoyed creeping back, confusing her sense of happy relief.  
   
He looked beat, dark shadows below his eyes. For all his taking time off to go fishing, he surely didn’t look very rested. But he smiled at her now, those huge tired blue eyes meeting hers and restoring to her a sense that things were back to right in her world.  
   
“It’s good to be home, Lu. Everything OK? And with Bobby? Got a little thing for you, honey…..”  
   
Searching his pockets, he found a pretty little box and handed it to her. She made short shrift of the encircling ribbons, and stared in surprise at her gift of a beautiful red heart pendant.  
   
“It reminds me of the day we met,” he explained quietly.  
   
It reassured and delighted her, unexpected proof that he cared for her just as much as ever. This gift spoke of affection and understanding, convincing her they shared the same priorities after all, hinting at that elusive ardour of their early days that she had secretly feared to be gone forever. It was a darling, perfect thing, and she beamingly told him as much while eagerly fastening the thin silver chain around her own neck.  
   
A happy glow radiated through her from where the bright enameled heart rested on her skin. She moved to embrace him, closing in for those deep, sweet, lingering kisses that had become so rare, too rare. But he only leaned forward to briefly kiss her cheek, nuzzling against her ear for a moment. Then he withdrew again and sighed tiredly.  
   
“Honey, I’m beat, I’m dead on my feet. It’s been a hell of a long drive, with this weather and all. I have to go sleep before I fall down where I stand.”  
   
Her tiny flash of renewed disappointment came and went in a heartbeat. She smiled contentedly, her hand seeking out the little red heart. Even if nothing but sleep was on the menu for tonight, she wanted him close, so close, now that he had finally returned to her. To them.  
   
“Sure enough. You go get comfortable and get some rest, honey, you’ve had a long and tiresome day,” she replied, accompanying him through the hallway door.  
   
“I’m gonna look in on Bobby real quick, then I’m coming to bed too. My paperwork sure ain’t going anywhere.”  
   
**Bobby**  
   
Bobby was sleeping fitfully, a slightly troubled frown on his face, his hands resting on either side of his head, fingers curled into angry-looking little fists.  
   
He didn’t feel the first soft kiss his mother pressed on his forehead, nor the second, but some sixth sense nevertheless woke him up, eyes blinking in the dim room. His unfocused gaze immediately caught on the red shiny heart dangling right in front of him from Lureen’s neck - she was leaning over his bed.  
   
Instinctively he lifted a small drowsy hand to catch and hold on to the enticingly swinging bauble, glittering with reflected light from the lamp in the hallway.  
   
Intercepting his move, Lureen gently took his hand and placed a loving kiss on it, squeezing his fingers and smiling down at him tenderly. Too often she had little patience for her son, but the relief and satisfaction she felt just now were more than wide enough to comfortably encompass Bobby.  
   
“Sleep, love. Everything’s alright and daddy’s come back home. Mommy and daddy are here, right outside. You just sleep now.” 

She bent down over him and kissed his bed-warm brow. "Good night."   
   
Bobby’s lips curled softly upwards in a perfect and tranquil little smile. His hand relaxed back on the pillow, open to the night.  
   
His eyes closed, and he slept. 


End file.
